Working Distractions
by BarnumOnTheBrain
Summary: Effie and Haymitch are talking with Peeta after his and Katniss' arrival for their first Games regarding his feelings for her and the tactics that could spring from that. However, Effie is distracted by the mere presence of her colleague, and soon Peeta becomes the last of their priorities. Fluffy Hayffie drabble.


**Well it seemed like a good idea at the time. Hayffie fluff. I hope you enjoy!**

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"Peeta, we asked you to come here with us because we have something we would like you ask you," Haymitch began, sitting the young boy on the sofa opposite him in the lounge. Katniss was taking a shower, which gave them at least half an hour to talk in peace, and this was going to be as short a conversation as Haymitch could make it.

Effie sat down next to the nervous-looking boy with an encouraging smile. "It's okay, you're not in trouble."

"Alright," Peeta said, still looking nervous.

Haymitch took a large gulp of scotch and smacked his lips before speaking again. Effie couldn't help but notice the way his tongue left glistening moisture on them and her breath caught in her throat momentarily. "Are you okay, Effie?" Haymitch asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course!" she said brightly. Lies. _Lies_. She wasn't alright. She desired him, and that was _not _alright. It was true, she had been attracted to him for years, but since he had vowed to keep his drinking to a minimum, she had found herself practically lusting after him, much to her despair. The last thing she needed at work was a distraction from District Twelve's resident drunk.

"Well, I intend to make this brief," Haymitch was saying just as Effie pulled herself back into reality, dragging her eyes away from his lips and onto the pale face of Peeta. "And we're not asking this to embarrass you, or to humiliate you, we just think it might be something to try as a tactic – and that's not to be taken in the wrong way either."

Effie, noticing as Haymitch's stern tone brought fear into Peeta's eyes, stepped in. "But this is nothing to worry about, dear, we're going to try to help you as much as possible."

"Okay," Peeta replied hesitantly, glancing between Haymitch and Effie. "But what is this all about? And why isn't Katniss here too? Doesn't she need to know?"

"The less she knows at this point, the better," Haymitch said gruffly.

"What Haymitch means," Effie interrupted, glancing reproachfully at him (with his returning stare sending a swoop to her stomach), "is that this is between us for now, and she'll find out soon enough."

"What? Why? What is this all about?" Peeta now sounded slightly panicked.

"Calm down, Peeta," Haymitch said firmly. "No need to worry. But perhaps Effie, you'd better at explaining this… sensitive issue."

He held her gaze for a moment too long before nodding towards him. She wiped the image of pressing her lips at the skin exposed between his ear and collar from her mind as she turned back to Peeta, ensuring her tone was calming, sensitive. She'd sure been in his position before in this respect, and she knew the tact that it called for. "Now Peeta. Haymitch and I noticed that you and Katniss… well, we noticed that you seem to… care for her quite a lot."

"Of course I do. She's from my District." His voiced was slow, measured, as if he was calculating everything he was saying.

"Naturally you do, Peeta. But what myself and Haymitch noticed from watching you is that, and I mean this in the most practical of reasons, not because we are being nosy, you appear to care a great deal for her. Perhaps in a deeper way than merely children – people – from the same District."

Haymitch kept a close eye on Peeta's reaction. There was certainly a shift in his facial expression at Effie's words. "And if I did?" he asked after a moment's silence.

"Well we can work with that," Effie said kindly, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I know this is painful for you."

"But this may be your salvation in these godforsaken Games," Haymitch added simply.

"Haymitch!" Effie exclaimed.

"No Effie, it's okay. Haymitch is right I guess. The way I feel about Katniss… it might not save either of us, but it might be an option," Peeta said, pulling away from her. "But I need to think about it."

"You mean you'd be open to exploiting it?" Haymitch asked, his drink back in his hand. Effie noticed the way his strong fingers gripped the crystal tumbler. Suddenly her mind was flooded with the image of those fingers tracing her lips and across her cheek into her hair. Her eyes fluttered slightly as she imagined how sweet that bare patch of skin that showed from where his top shirt button was undone would taste on her tongue and she began to tune out of the conversation. She could almost feel the warmth of his skin on her mouth as she imagined tracing his stubbly jawline and her fingers began knitting together as she almost forgot both hands were hers, not one belonging to him. _Oh God, Effie, snap out of it!_

"… need to think about it, I think," Peeta was saying carefully as Effie snapped back into reality. She pulled her hands apart as she realised that they were not entwined with Haymitch's, mentally scolding herself.

"Sleep on it then," Haymitch agreed, standing up as Peeta made his way to his room. He clapped the blonde-haired boy on the shoulder as he left. "He's a good lad," he said once the door to Peeta's room had been shut behind him.

"Yes," Effie said distractedly, trying to keep her eyes away from his. "He's lovely!"

"Effie, are you okay?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "You seem… flustered."

"Darling, I'm always flustered," Effie replied with a laugh, plumping the cushions beside her. Anything to avoid looking at him. She felt like a silly schoolgirl again, aroused by almost anything he did – it was ridiculous!

"Yeah, I'd noticed," he replied dryly, smoothing down the tie that she had forced him to wear that morning. "But not like this."

He noticed the way a muscle twitched in her neck as she turned her face from him, saying something not worth registering in her silly accent, and he was struck by the wonder of how her soft skin would feel against his chapped lips. Her long fingers could probably work wonders on him, and he had to fight the mental picture of her pushing his clothes from his shoulders with them. He had always desired her purely for sex, for as long as he had known her, but lately he had caught her giving him these looks. It honestly sometimes looked like she wanted to rip his clothes off. He kept his eyes on her lips, and as her tongue licked her lips he found he was copying the action. Just looking at her like this made him want her. Shame. All the best things in life were unavailable.

He flopped down on the sofa next to her and slammed his drink onto the table. He turned to her as she continued to prattle on, and pretended to listen. He noticed the way her lips curled upwards on certain words, and suddenly he was stuck by the thought of them trailing up the inside of his arm, across his neck and up to meet his mouth.

Effie didn't really know what she was talking about, but she was becoming aware of the way he was looking at her. She noticed the way he licked his lips slowly and she almost leaned towards him involuntarily. _Effie, what on earth are you doing?_ She caught herself just in time, and hopefully, before he noticed anything.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Haymitch asked, interrupting her, shifting his position on the couch towards her a little more.

She blinked, considering whether or not to scold him for interrupting her. It was rude, after all. But what did it matter? She had no idea what she had even been talking about. "I should think so. Why?"

He began rubbing his hand slowly up and down the top of his thigh as he thought. Effie watched it, almost wanting to let out a groan of desire. "I like them this year. Well, I like him. And she has potential, so that's something."

"Haymitch Abernathy, are you admitting you may in fact have a heart?" Effie asked incredulously, laughter in her voice at this sudden revelation.

"I wouldn't go that far, sweetheart," he said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe I'm just less apathetic than I am usually."

"You're not apathetic," she replied quietly. "You just pretend to be."

"How'd you know?"

"Because I've known you for years."

That shut him up. He slumped against the back of the sofa and flopped his hands either side of him. One of his hands rested inches from hers, and as she readjusted herself beside him, her fingertips brushed his.

She kept very still as their fingers touched – the first touch in years – between them, not daring to look at him. Slowly, though, she felt his hand move over hers and the tips of his fingers began tracing her knuckles lightly. Her breath became slightly shallow and she realised that desire was coursing through her. This was dangerous territory now.

Beside him he felt her tense up and he surpressed a smile. Perhaps it was as it seemed – perhaps she desired him, as he desired her. There was only one way to find out. He turned his head and looked at her. Her wide-eyed gaze met his for a brief moment before he had pulled her to him in a fiery kiss.

Oh God, he tasted as good as she hoped he would. Beneath the alcohol he was warm and musky and his tongue greeted hers with such urgency she wondered, in the very back of her mind, why they hadn't done this before. His hands grasped at her waist, yanking her onto his lap and there was a ripping round as the seam of her skirt ripped up her leg as she straddled him.

He wanted to badly to taste all of her, and he tore his lips from hers, dragging them across her pale skin. Her salty skin left a tang on his tongue and she moaned his name as he began sucking at her neck, his hands holding her to him.

"Oh God, Haymitch," she groaned quietly into his ear, her breath tickling him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, something was telling her to stop. As his hands worked at her clothes the voice got louder and louder until it spilled from her lips. "No, Haymitch, this is wrong, no."

"Okay," he mumbled against her skin, carrying on. "Whatever you say."

"No, no, Haymitch, I mean it," she groaned, pulling away. "We have to stop." Whatever her words were saying, her eyes and body weren't agreeing.

"You don't mean that." And he tried to pull her back to him.

With all the effort she could muster, she put her hands against his chest. "No," she repeated, half-heartedly. "We must stay professional."

And before he could so much as say "Happy Hunger Games" she had stood up, straightened herself out and left for her room.

_Well, _Haymitch thought to himself as he downed what was left of his drink_, at least he had tried. And clearly she did want him. But she didn't. Or she _did_ but she _couldn't_. _Either way, this was going to make the rest of the Games very… heated for them both. Even more so than usual.


End file.
